


5 Times Tony was Nothing like Howard and 1 Time he was Exactly like Maria

by Baymax_13



Series: Finding You Was Easy [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Child Abuse, Cooking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Italian Tony Stark, Maria Stark's Good Parenting, Nightmares, Parent Pepper Potts, Parent Tony Stark, Past Child Abuse, Pepper Potts Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Calls Tony Stark "Dad", Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Tony Stark, Recovery, Sickfic, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:08:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24174109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baymax_13/pseuds/Baymax_13
Summary: "Tony swore to himself that if he ever had the privilege of being a father, he would be nothing like his own dad. He would try to embody his mother instead, her warmth, her kindness, her love."Or Tony Stark is an incredible father, and his secret is essentially do the exact opposite of whatever Howard would have done.
Relationships: Howard Stark & Maria Stark & Tony Stark, Howard Stark & Tony Stark, Howard Stark/Maria Stark, Maria Stark & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Finding You Was Easy [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572709
Comments: 19
Kudos: 514
Collections: Really good Irondad and Spiderson fanfics, carolina’s | fics that have been devouRED





	5 Times Tony was Nothing like Howard and 1 Time he was Exactly like Maria

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is a bit of a longer update, which is why it took so long. I'm actually really proud of it though so hopefully you guys like it. This one is a little more TonyCentric, and the way it's formatted is that you have the title and then Tony's POV from when he was a kid, and then after the line break you have pretty much the same situation except with Tony and Peter.
> 
> If you guys enjoy it please leave a kudos or a comment (or both!) I appreciate all of them soo much. Also if you have any prompts you'd like to see, I'd love to know about them!
> 
> TW: Howard is abusive towards Tony.

1, Injured:

Tony knew his dad was in a bad mood. He should’ve been more careful, he was seven now! He needed to stop messing up so much if he ever wanted his dad to like him. 

These thoughts did nothing to stop the crash of the broken glass against the floor, the water he had been getting himself spilling all over. The young boy rushed to clean it up, not caring about cutting himself, just desperately praying his dad wouldn’t notice. 

No such luck. He was bleeding from quite a few places on his hands when Howard made his way to the kitchen. He was stumbling a bit, the smell of alcohol oozing off of him like slime. Tony wrinkled his nose at it, but turned away to continue cleaning. Hopefully if his dad saw he was taking responsibility for his mistake he would go easy on him. 

“You stupid, clumsy boy. What have I told you?” Howard sneered down at him, imposing in his rage. 

Tony sniffled, his hands starting to burn. “Stark men aren’t clumsy. They don’t make mistakes. I’ll never be good enough for the Stark name if I don’t get my sh- shit together.”

A cruel smile graced the older man’s face. “At least you’re good at memorizing what you’re told. Might be your only redeeming quality.”

Howard knelt to pick up the biggest shard of glass from the floor, Tony looking up in anticipation of what he would do with it. He wasn’t naive enough to think his father would help him clean his mess. 

“Put your hands out Anthony.”

Tony obeyed, head bowed, whole body tense. Howard placed the shard on his right palm, using more force than necessary to make sure the cut drew blood. The boy winced, but didn’t cry out. He knew better than that. 

“Pick the rest of this mess up,” Howard spat at him. “When you’re done you and you alone can take care of your hands. If I even think you’ve asked Jarvis or Maria to help you, there will be hell to pay. Do you understand boy?”

Tony nodded meekly. “Yes sir.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tony was in the workshop when he heard the crash. 

He stood up, hurrying to make sure everything was ok. ”Fri?”

The AI replied, “Young Peter seems to have dropped a glass.”

Tony released a breath, that was a lot better than what he was expecting. Among his worst case scenarios were aliens bursting in through the windows, Hydra bursting in through the windows, AIM bursting in through the windows. Pretty much anything involving the windows (even though they were more than bulletproof and he’d had them reinforced again when Peter came to live with them. Sue him, he was overprotective). 

It might as well have been his worst nightmare though when he stumbled into the kitchen and saw his kid bleeding. Peter was scrambling to pick up the shards, clearly disregarding his own well-being in the process. 

“Peter stop!” he all but launched himself at the teen desperate to just get him away from the offending pieces of glass. 

Peter looked up at him, pupils blown wide in fear. “Dad, I’m so sorry, it was an accident I swear, I’ll clean it up, I’ll pay for a new glass, I- I’m so sor-”

Tony shushed him gently, dragging him with him to the bathroom. He put the top down on the toilet bringing the boy over to it. “Kid, it was an accident, I’m not mad ok? I yelled because I didn’t want you to get hurt. I’m sorry alright?”

Peter looked like he wanted to protest but Tony didn’t give him the chance. “I’ll be right back. I'm just getting the first aid kit.”

Coming back with the small supply kit, Tony saw his kid staring at his bloody hands as if they had personally insulted him. He snorted, “glaring at them won’t make them heal any faster.”

“You don’t know that, we haven’t studied the full extent of my freaky spider DNA.”

Tony shrugged, reaching for some tweezers to get the smaller glass pieces out of his kid. “True, but that seems unlikely.” 

Peter flinched at the first removal, Tony wincing in sympathy. “Sorry kid, can’t leave them in there or you’ll heal around it.”

Peter nodded and they let the silence surround them while Tony finished cleaning and wrapping Peter’s hands until it looked like he was wearing fingerless gloves. “There, now you’re both taken care of and you look kinda punk rock.”

The kid cracked a smile at that, albeit a hesitant one. “I am sorry about the glass. I didn’t mean to break it.”

Tony sighed, reaching to tilt Peter’s chin up to meet his gaze. “Kid, not to be crass, but I’m a billionaire. I can afford another glass. What I can’t afford, is another scare like that. I have a heart condition you know?”

Peter snorted. “You’re just old.”

The mechanic gasped, affronted. “You’re grounded. And I’m gonna build all your lego sets without you.” His tone softened. “But seriously kid, I’m not gonna be upset with you over things like this. I just want you to be safe, ok?”

“Ok. Thanks dad.”

“You’re welcome baby.”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2, In the lab:

Tony was three now, which meant he was more than capable of building a simple circuit board. He knew he could do it, and as soon as he did, he was going to show his dad and he would be proud of him!

The toddler worked on his circuit board for hours on end, Jarvis watching on fondly when his young master didn’t know he was looking. The little boy would stick his tongue out in concentration, managing the wires and pliers with the dexterity of a man many years his senior. Finally - finally! - it was done. 

Tony gasped when it finally worked, shrieking in delight. He grabbed his design and all but sprinted to his father’s lab, so excited he forgot to even knock. 

“Daddy! Look daddy, I made it work!” He displayed his creation up to his father, who had yet to turn from his own work to look at his son. 

“It’s nice Anthony.”

Tony frowned. “But, you haven’t looked at it daddy, I haven’t turned it on!”

Howard growled. “Anthony, I don’t have time for your stupid little toys alright? Go show Maria or something.”

Tony’s bottom lip quivered, but he forced himself not to cry. Stark men were made of iron after all. “But -”

Howard turned, glowering. He grabbed the circuit board from Tony’s hands and hurled it at the wall, the pieces flying in all directions. He sat back down, acting as though nothing had happened. As though he hadn’t just broken his son’s heart. 

The curly-haired toddler couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. They fell, silent down his face as he ran out of the workshop and towards his room, slamming the door behind him. He shoved his face into his pillow and sobbed for hours on end. 

He never went down to his father’s workshop again. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tony made his way down to the lab for the day, a cup of coffee in his hand and a piece of toast in his mouth. Friday opened the doors for him, and he gave her an appreciative half-smile around the food.

Tony came to a stop at seeing his son working on something in the corner of the lab. Not that Peter wasn’t allowed down there or didn’t spend a significant amount of time working with Tony, but the kid had never really come down to work on something on his own. 

Tony shrugged, finishing off the piece of toast and taking a swig of his coffee. He neared the kid’s makeshift workstation, already making a mental note to make him his own space down here. The kid was a genius after all. 

“Hey bud.”

Peter jumped, accidentally zapping himself on a loose wire and yelping. “Oh my god dad, you scared me.”

Tony smirked. “It is my workshop you know, if anyone should be scared it’s me.”

Peter looked sheepish. “Sorry, I didn’t think you would be down here this early, and Friday said it was ok for me to be here…”

The mechanic offered his coffee to his son, Peter taking it gratefully and all but downing it. “Of course you’re allowed down here Pete, I just wasn’t expecting it.” He peered behind the teen. “What’re you working on anyways?”

Peter blushed. “It - It’s nothing.”

Tony scoffed. “Of course it’s something kid, you made it.”

The teen blushed deeper, the tips of his ears turning red which Tony found absolutely adorable. 

“I’m building a robot, and I’m coding - or, well I’m trying to code an AI for him. His name’s Reggie,” Peter said. 

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. AI coding was impressive stuff, even for him. It had taken him years to get Jarvis running the way he wanted him to and Friday less only because he had the base code leftover from the same. 

Peter sighed, “I know, it’s stupid, I’ll get this stuff out of your way.”

Tony all but yelled, “No! That’s not what I meant, I was just… shocked. That’s really impressive stuff kid.”

Peter preened at the compliment. “Yeah? You think so?”

Tony gripped his shoulder. “Yeah kid, I know so. And um, I get it if you want this to be your project but … if you ever want my input you know where to find me.”

Peter beamed at him. “Oh my gosh dad yes! I’d love that! I’ve actually been having trouble with this one line of code and…” The teen continued to babble on, Tony listening fondly all the way through, putting in his two cents every once in a while. 

And the next time Peter went down to the lab, he had his own workspace, right next to his dad. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

3, Sick:

Tony woke up feeling horrible. There was a shooting pain behind his eyes and his stomach felt like it was doing flips. He groaned, the noise not helping to alleviate his symptoms in the slightest. He grabbed onto his bedside table, using it as a crutch to try to get up. As soon as he was even vaguely vertical though he was hit with an intense wave of nausea, the fact that his stomach was empty not helping to push the feeling away at all. 

He rushed to the bathroom, desperately hoping he would make it to the toilet. Of course luck wasn’t on his side that morning - when was it ever, really - and the teenager ended up vomiting all over the tiled floor of his bathroom. 

He felt a second wave coming and managed to actually grasp the porcelain bowl before he was hurling again, his stomach contracting painfully and rebelling against the feeling of bile coming up his throat. 

Eventually there was nothing left to expel, not even stomach acid, and Tony was left dry heaving painfully, tears running down his face at the pain. His knees were splayed out at awkward angles alongside him, his hair plastered to his forehead in sweat. He felt truly miserable. 

Of course that wasn’t the end of it, because he heard heavy footsteps approaching his room. It was nighttime, so Jarvis would be home with Ana, and his mother was having one of her “episodes” so she wouldn’t be leaving the bedroom anytime soon, not to mention her footsteps were light and delicate. 

So his father then. 

Tony groaned, struggling to get up and holding back the urge to vomit again at the movement. He used the wall to hold him; his father insisted that he always stand up to greet him, and he wasn’t anxious for a repeat of the last time he hadn’t complied. 

“Anthony what is all this noise?! You know your mother needs her sleep…” The older man trailed off at the sight in the bathroom. Tony looked up at him pitifully, daring to hope Howard would react the way a father should. 

He really should stop hoping for good luck. “This is disgusting, young man. You’re going to clean this up immediately,” Howard said. 

Tony swayed on the spot. “I- I can’t sir.”

Any explanation he would’ve given was cut off by the slap to his face. Howard’s expression was ablaze with fury. “I don’t want to hear it. You made the mess, you clean it up. I’ll be back in half an hour and if this bathroom isn’t spotless you’re going to regret it.”

The older man turned and left, leaving the trembling fourteen year old clutching his cheek. 

Tony gathered what little strength he had and set forth to gather the cleaning supplies. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Boss”

Tony groaned awake at the sound of his very rude AI interrupting him. “Whatever it is, Fri it can wait.”  
He could’ve almost sworn the AI sounded concerned. “Actually it can’t sir. Young Peter is sick.”

That got Tony up. He practically ran into the door with how fast he was hurtling towards the kid’s room. 

When he got there he heard retching coming from the kid’s bathroom. The genius flinched at the sound, nose scrunching a bit at the smell. But none of it slowed him down. He opened the door to the bathroom, trying not to startle the kid. Not that it really mattered, he seemed too far gone to really care what was going on around him. 

Tony sighed, kneeling next to the kid away from the pile of vomit on the floor. He rubbed his hand up and down Peter’s back in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “Oh bambino…”

Peter sobbed, only succeeding in agitating himself further. He was practically hyperventilating, dry heaving on top of the toilet. 

Truth be told, Tony felt a little (a lot) out of his depth. He was a known germaphobe and he had been under the impression that Peter couldn’t get sick. They really needed to take Bruce up on the offer to analyze the kid’s DNA soon. 

Regardless, he did what he could to help his son, taking the hand towel on the rack and running it under cold water from the sink. He neared his kid again, dabbing the towel on his sweat soaked forehead. 

Luckily, Peter stopped heaving soon, laying his head against the cool porcelain and groaning. 

Tony stroked his hair back. “I know baby, it’s ok. Do you think you can move yet?”

Peter barely cracked his eyes open, looking at Tony for a few seconds before nodding. 

“I’ll help you up.” Tony shouldered most of Peter’s weight, trying to maneuver him away from the vomit on the floor. 

The kid gasped at seeing it, tears coming to his eyes again. “I’m sorry Dad, I’ll clean it, I swear…”

Tony shushed him gently, pressing a kiss to his much too hot forehead and leading him to the bed. 

The kid seemed to zone out after that, so Tony changed him out of his sweaty pajamas into clean ones and got him situated in bed with an extra blanket. He went to grab a bucket and some water for the kid, cursing the fact that any medicine he gave him would be burnt through before it could even take effect. 

When he got back, Peter’s eyes were open again, staring at him. He looked apologetic, which just wouldn’t do. “Dad-”

“Buddy, it’s ok. You sleep, I’ll clean it up.”

Peter groaned. “It’s gross though…”

Tony huffed a small laugh. “Yes it is, but that’s my job as your father. I wouldn’t be a very good dad if I made you clean up your own vomit now would I?”

“I guess not…”

Tony leaned down, kissing his kid’s forehead. “You guess correctly. Now sleep kiddo, you need it.”

“Dad?”

Tony hummed. 

“I love you.”

He smiled. “I love you too buddy.”

Peter was already snoring before he finished his sentence.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

4, Discipline:

Tony stumbled home from the party nearing 4 am. He actually hadn’t had that much to drink (tonight anyway), but he had taken his time in finding his way back, not wanting to deal with his real life back at the house just yet. It was so easy when he wasn’t Anthony Edward Stark, just Tony. He hated that it couldn’t last. 

He unlocked the door, toeing his shoes off and trying to be quiet. When he didn’t hear anything from his parent’s room he thought he might be able to play off his late arrival in the morning as earlier than it actually was. 

That hope was dashed as he tiptoed into the living room and came face to face with his father. Tony pressed his eyes shut, fear flooding his body. His dad was clearly drunk, a bottle of half empty scotch in his hand. 

“Where have you been?” His voice wasn’t slurred, though that didn’t surprise Tony. His dad had a very high tolerance for alcohol. He had developed it over the years of binge drinking that often made the teen’s life that much more of a living hell. 

Tony turned away from him, ready to head to his room. “Out.”

His father grabbed his hand so tight Tony knew it would leave a bruise and he yelped. “Don’t talk to me like that boy,” he sneered. 

Tony yanked his hand away from his father’s grip. “I was out, what’s the big deal?”

His father’s face contorted again into a mask of fury. “What if something had happened to you huh?! It’s four hours past your curfew.”

That made Tony pause. “I didn’t know you cared.”

Howard scoffed. “I don’t care about your scrawny ass, but if you got taken guess who would have to pay the ransom, that’s right, me. My money. Not to mention I’ve spent far too long molding you into the heir of Stark Industries. I wouldn’t want to have wasted my time.”

Yeah that made more sense. Tony couldn’t say he was surprised, but he also couldn’t deny the small twinge of hurt he felt at those words. “Well congratulations, your prize hog is in perfect condition, so how about you just let me go to my room and we can wake up tomorrow and I’ll pretend to be your good little boy again.”

Before he could register what was happening, Howard had him pinned against the wall by his neck. Tony struggled against him, scratching at the hands preventing him from getting any air into his lungs. It burned, the digging in of his father’s fingers like hot coal against his windpipe. He felt himself start to get woozy, nearing the brink of passing out. All he could think was “Air, I need air, I need air, I need air,” and then nothing as his vision blurred. He gasped as he felt the pressure relieve itself, trying to draw in as much air as possible all at once. 

When he could register anything happening around him, he found himself on his hands and knees, Howard looming over him like a shadow. 

“You won’t be missing your curfew again Anthony. Is that clear?”

He mumbled out a weak yes, yelping when he was kicked in the side. 

“I couldn’t hear you.”

Tony choked out a louder “yes”, his eyes filling with tears at the pain he was in. 

His father nodded, taking another swig from the scotch bottle and leaving the room. 

Tony collapsed on the ground, gasping and holding his side where he was sure there would be a bruise in the morning. He could still feel the hands against his throat, the wall against his back. He could still feel the pain of the kick to his side. 

But what hurt the most was knowing for sure that his dad didn’t care about him as anything other than an investment. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tony checked the specs for Peter’s vitals for what felt like the 17th time in as many seconds. He rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, looking out at the New York City Skyline and trying to see the telltale red and blue suit swinging home. 

He turned, surprised at the sound of the elevator dinging, ready to activate his gauntlet if someone had managed to bypass his security systems (which was unlikely, but still). He almost cried out in relief when he saw it was his stupid spider kid, looking unharmed, if tired. 

“Peter,” he cried lovingly, enveloping the teenager in his arms and breathing him in, just happy knowing he was safe. He pulled back, grasping his face between his hands, inspecting for any injuries. Finding none, he finally pulled back all the way, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Where have you been? It’s two hours past your curfew.” He didn’t yell - he wouldn’t, not with his own past - but his voice was stern and firm. 

Peter looked down sheepishly. “I’m really sorry dad, I just lost track of time and then when I realized I started heading home but this little girl was lost and I had to help her find her mom, and then there was a mugging and I had to help the old lady and-”

Tony interrupted him, putting a hand up to stop him. “Kid I understand, but the least you could’ve done would be to send a text telling me what was happening. Do you have any idea how worried I was? What if something had happened to you? The only reason I didn’t go after you was because Friday assured me your vitals were fine but…”

Peter looked rightfully ashamed at that. “I’m sorry… I didn’t think it was that big of a deal…I’m not used to someone caring that much.” He mumbled the last bit, his face flushing at the confession. 

Tony sighed, the last of any anger he was holding onto leaving him. He gently led the kid over to the couch and sat him down. “Kid, you’re the most important thing in the world to me. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. I hate to be a cliche, but when you have kids, if that’s something you want of course, you’ll understand. Every second you’re not in my sight feels like there’s a part of me that’s missing. I just need to know that you’re safe, ok?”

Peter nodded, eyes shiny. 

“Now, we do need to discuss the fact that you broke curfew kid.” Tony sighed. “We all sat down with your therapist and talked about what would be good amounts of time for patrol. 9 PM on weekdays and 11 on weekends. You agreed to this. Have you changed your mind? Do you feel that we haven’t been fair?”

Peter looked up, face an almost comical expression of shock. “No! Dad you’ve been more than fair with patrol, you were right, I shouldn’t have been out so late and I should’ve texted.”

Tony nodded. “Yes you should’ve, but I’m glad you still feel the rules are fair. Do you understand why we have them?”

“To keep me safe.”

“Yeah kid, to keep you safe, but not just that, we want you to be happy and healthy.” Tony looked at the kid, expression full of love. 

“I understand Dad, I’ll try not to break curfew again.”

“That’s all I ask, kid.” He reached forward and pressed a kiss to the top of the teen’s head, the tips of Peter’s ears turning red at the action. 

“I think this time you get off with a warning, but if something like this happens again you’ll get put on spidey probation, alright?”

The younger boy nodded. 

“Go shower and head to bed kid, you stink.” The mechanic wrinkled his nose for effect. Peter laughed at that and stood up, heading to his room. 

He stopped, turning around and facing his dad. “Dad? I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Tony gave him a small smile. “That’s my job kid, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

5, Nightmares:

The young boy sat up in his bed, clutching at his teddy bear and panting. He felt tears come to his eyes, and quickly scurried out of his room, his little feet clumsily finding their way to the hallway. 

He finally reached his parents’ room, standing on his tiptoes to grasp the doorknob. He made his way to his father’s side of the bed, standing still for a few seconds before the fear from his nightmare returned and led to him shaking his dad’s shoulder a few times. 

Eventually the older Stark grumbled awake, turning on the bedside lamp and sitting up. “Anthony, what are you doing here?”

Tony’s lower lip wobbled and he tried to reach for his dad’s hand, but Howard yanked it away before the kid had the chance. “I had a nightmawe Daddy.”

Howard sighed, exasperated. “Go back to bed.”

Tony whimpered, “but I’m scawed…”

Howard looked up, a frustrated expression on his face. “You’re running my patience thin boy. Stark men are made of iron. We don’t get scared of silly little nightmares.”

Tony looked down, rocking back and forth a little on the spot. “Daddy… can I sleep with you and mommy? Just tonight…”

Maria was still asleep, a bottle of what Tony would grow to recognize as sleeping pills open on her bedside table. 

Howard stood, grasping the younger boy’s arm harshly. He led him back to the room from which the younger boy had come from, lifting him up and settling him back on the sweat soaked sheets. “You’re a big boy Anthony. I won’t coddle you. Don’t bother me for such silly matters again, do you understand?”

Tony’s eyes filled with tears again, but he held them in and nodded. 

Howard nodded. “Good, now sleep.”

He walked out, leaving the boy to sob into his pillow, alone. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tony grumbled at the feeling of being shaken awake. “Fri, lights at 20%”

The room lit up enough for Tony to see his kid at his bedside, leaning on his crutch, pupils blown wide in fear. He immediately sat up completely, reaching for the teenager. 

Peter all but collapsed into his arms, sobbing. Tony grabbed the crutch before it could fall and propped it against the wall, then he wrapped both his arms around his kid and half-dragged him into the bed between him and Pepper, who was starting to wake up. 

When she saw Peter sobbing, her face took on a sad look Tony was sure he was mirroring. She reached to run her hands through the kid’s hair, something that never failed to calm him down. 

Between the two of them, they got Peter settled underneath the blankets, cuddling up with them while the remnants of whatever had upset him ran its course. 

Eventually, he stopped sobbing, rising up off Tony’s chest long enough to wipe his face off. “Kid, what happened?” Tony said. 

Peter shook his head, bottom lip wobbling. “It’s stupid…”

Pepper gave him a comforting smile. “It’s not stupid if it upset you baby.”

“I just… had a nightmare, that’s all.”

Tony sighed sympathetically. “Oh kid, I’m sorry.”

“ ‘S not your fault…”

Tony reached to bring the kid back to his chest, laying them both down, Pepper following suit. “How about you stay with us tonight? Do you think you can get back to sleep?”

Peter looked at the both of them before answering. “I don’t wanna intrude…”

Pepper scoffed at that. “You’re our kid Peter. You’re never intruding.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure,” Tony answered firmly. 

Peter took a few seconds, then nodded. “Ok… do you think we can keep the lights on? Just a little bit?”

Both of the adults nodded, Tony motioning to Friday to comply with the kid’s request. All three snuggled together, Peter’s breathing evening out into something close to sleep. 

“Mom? Dad? Thank you…”

“You don’t have to thank us kid, it’s what parents do.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

+1, Family Recipe:

Tony was on what felt like his 300th hour of homework when his mom knocked on his door. The 12 year old looked up at her, smiling. 

“Watcha doing tesoro?” 

Tony sighed, frustrated. “I’ve been working on this problem for my quantum theory class, but I can’t seem to calibrate the velocity of the vortex to work in tandem with the gravitational pull!”

Maria laughed breathily. “Seems complicated.” She reached a hand towards him. “It sounds like you need a distraction.”

Tony hesitantly grasped her hand, allowing her to pull him to the kitchen. The whole kitchen counter was set up with a variety of ingredients, as well as an authentic Italian pasta maker that Tony recognized from the one Christmas Howard had let him and Maria visit her family in Italy before Tony’s nonna had passed away.

“When did you get that?” he asked his mom, eyeing the contraption as if afraid it would break. 

She gave him a sad smile. “Nonna left it for me in the will. I finally had time to go pick it up.”

Tony looked up at her. “It’s beautiful mamma.”

“Yes it’s a stunning machine. It’s been in the family for generations. My mom used it when she taught me to make her famous carbonara, and now I think it’s your turn to learn.”

Tony gasped. “Really? Are you sure?”

Maria laughed. It sounded like bells to Tony, light and happy. That laugh was getting rarer by the day, and he appreciated every time he got to hear it. “Yes I’m sure bambino. You’re old enough now, and I want you to understand the importance of tradition.” She paused. “Family is everything Antonio. It doesn’t have to be by blood, but if you find someone who means the world to you, you hold on and you hold on tight.”

She cupped his cheek in her hand. “And if you’re ever lucky enough to be a father, I want you to be able to share this recipe with them like my Mamma shared it with me. Like a thread binding us all together.”

Tony smiled at her. “Do you think I’ll be a good dad?”

“I think you'll make the best dad caro. You just need to remember that love is not a finite resource. You don’t need to ration it or save it for special occasions. You give it freely and in abundance. Show your cracks and love will fill them. Do you understand?”

Tony nodded, taking it in. He swore to himself that if he ever had the privilege of being a father, he would be nothing like his own dad. He would try to embody his mother instead, her warmth, her kindness, her love. 

“Then let’s get cooking.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tony knocked on his kid’s door, seeing him hunched over a textbook looking like he was trying to set it on fire with his mind. 

“What did that book ever do to you?” He smirked. 

Peter groaned. “I hate theoretical physics. We haven’t even proven it works and I’m supposed to make sense of it??”

Tony huffed out a laugh. “Well it sounds like you could use a distraction.”

Peter shook his head. “I can’t. I’ve got midterms in a week and if I don’t understand this I’m going to fail.”

Tony approached his kid, extending his hand for him to take. “Theoretical physics will still be there when you get back. Come on, I’ll help you with your homework after this.”

Peter sighed, trying and failing to hide his fond smile. He grabbed his dad’s hand and Tony led them both to the kitchen. He had set out everything they would need for the recipe, including one of the few things he had that money couldn’t buy. His nonna’s pasta maker.

Peter gasped, looking at the machine in awe. “This is so cool dad! It looks so authentic.”

Tony chuckled. “I would hope so. That pasta maker has been in my family for the past four generations.”  
Peter looked up at him. “Are you serious?”

Tony nodded. “It’s where my mom taught me to make pasta, and where her mom taught her to make pasta, and I was hoping I could teach you to make it now.”

Peter looked conflicted. “Are you sure? I mean... “ The kid looked down sadly. “I’m not really part of the family.”

Tony looked at Peter, brows furrowed. “Pete, family doesn’t end in blood. My mamma knew that. She told me that if I ever had the privilege of being a father, that teaching him this, it would be like a thread that kept us together.” He settled his hand on the teenager’s shoulder. “You’re my son Peter. That makes you part of the family.”

Peter beamed up at him. “Ok, let’s do it!”

They started preparing everything, Tony showing him how to make the pasta dough just as his mom had shown him. 

Eventually though, Peter stopped. “Dad, do you think your mom would’ve liked me?”

Tony smiled a little sadly at the memory of his mom. “She would’ve loved you kid. She had such a big heart, and she always talked about how much she would love any grandkids I gave her.” He cleared his throat. “When she died, for a while all I could think of was that I never gave her that, that I probably would never considering the way I acted back then. But I look at you now kid and I just know she’s happy, wherever she is.”

Peter smiled at him shily. “I think I would’ve liked her a lot too.”

Tony ruffled the kid’s hair, him squeaking indignantly at the action. “I know you would’ve kid. She’s your nonna.”

“Cause I’m your kid.”

Tony nodded. “Cause you’re my kid.”


End file.
